Part 5 (2/2)
Wherefore lie? Nay, mine oath is true, True as above us spreads the sky.
We lost, but a traitor hand was there, And the soldier fell in the liar's snare.
_Lays of the Punjab_.
Loo-ga-lay said it was only a mistake, but the childlike innocence of his face, his oaths and protestations, the twenty hired witnesses he brought to prove him guiltless availed him not, and the richly deserved three months' ”rigorous” was duly awarded. With the giving of this sentence, the details of which are of no account, the official programme of the day was over, and Peregrine free from office routine until Monday morning. He was to see Ruys this afternoon, and her face appeared to flit before him and his heart bowed down to the vision; but he set his teeth and put away the thoughts that came whether he would or not. Was he not measuring the strength of his soul or will, as he would have called it, against the strength of his pa.s.sion?
He was going to pit the ideal against the real, and to his strong young heart the struggle could have but one issue. He knew--none better--that he was running a desperate risk, but there was no doubt in his mind that the danger had to be faced, and there was a curious pleasure in facing the danger. And all this war, which was to make or mar him, was to be silently fought out in the drawing-room of a very pretty woman. He found her there, looking the picture of repose, her little dog coiled snugly at her feet, and a yellow-backed novel before her. She put the book down with a smile as he came in, and held out her hand.
”I am so glad to see you, Mr. Jackson. You must be horrified to see me, a parson's wife, reading a yellow-back; but it is Armorel of Lyonesse, and books like that make one feel good, do they not? One seems to want so much support to keep on the straight path through life.”
He picked up the volume from the table.
”Yes,” he said, ”Armorel was a woman who would have made any man great. She was one to die for.”
”Or to live for, don't you think? I should certainly not like the man I loved to die for me.”
A subtle inflection of the voice made him almost start as he looked up, but the gray deep of her eyes was pure and unruffled. ”I would rather,” she continued, ”die for the man I loved. I think women were made for sacrifice.”
”Don't you think that men are capable of it?”
”Of sacrificing women--yes. Is it not done daily? Look at that man in this book--what do they call him? Ah, yes, Roland--Roland Lee. What a worthless wretch he was, to what an abyss he sank! Did not Armorel fling herself away on him? Is it not a terrible thing for a man to bind a pure woman to him, knowing that she must find out things that tell her her idol has feet of clay? Oh, yes! the woman builds herself such castles in the air, and how they crumble and fade!”
”And does this never happen to man?”
”I don't think so. I don't think that a man ever loves in the sense that a woman wishes to be loved.” She bent forward and took the book from his hand as she spoke.
The touch of her fingers almost made his limbs tremble as he put down with a mighty effort the rush of words that came to his lips. He said quietly enough, however, ”I do not think you judge us fairly, and you, at any rate, have nothing to complain of.” Not a muscle of her face moved as she folded the book, held half open in her hand, and placed it in a small wickerwork basket that stood on a table near her. Over this she cast a piece of embroidery work, and a moment after her husband entered the room. He greeted Peregrine cordially, and then, disjointing himself, sank into a chair with a weary look in his eyes.
”Are you feeling very tired?”
How the worn look pa.s.sed from the man's face at his wife's question!
”No, Ruys; tired--not a bit of it.” Peregrine cut in here and asked if it was not an off day with the mission schools. ”Yes, and that's the worst of it. It means that on Monday one has to start fresh again.
Satan takes a long pull on Sat.u.r.day and Sunday, and these Burmans seem to have a natural affinity for him.”
”I suppose I should hardly say it to you, but it seems to me we are beginning at the wrong end. We are giving these people the Gospel before they have been put in a state to understand it. How can they understand the greatest of all mysteries, which even we--I say it with all deference--do not understand?”
”'Knock, and it shall be opened,'” quoted Habakkuk. ”Mr. Jackson, I was once as you are, searching for a light, groping about in darkness and----”
The flutelike voice of Mrs. Smalley intervened. ”Come, and finish your speech in the garden. I have had my tea-table set out there, and it looks as if it were expecting us. Come along, Mr. Jackson, and come, husband.”
She put her hand slightly on Habakkuk's shoulder as she said these words, and the face of the priest shone with a great joy; but underneath the long lashes of her eyes she glanced softly on Peregrine. Jackson's honest heart rebelled against this; he felt that there was a double game being played, felt it indistinctly, but still that perception gave him a little extra strength, as if there was a flaw in the chain that bound him. Yet the thought was horribly disloyal to this peerless woman, to impute to her the motives of a common flirt, and it was with a conflict within a conflict in his heart that he took his seat on the rustic bench near the tea-table and watched the white hands of his hostess as she busied herself over the delicate teacups. Habakkuk declined to sit down. He helped himself to a huge slice of cake, and, holding this in one hand and his tea in the other, paced up and down ready to carry on the discussion. He cut a half-moon out of the cake with an enormous, bite, and, waving the remnants in the air, resumed his speech. ”Wal, as I was saying, I was searching for a light. I had not then received my call to the ministry, and while hunting for food for the soul was compelled to s.h.i.+ft round considerable for food for the body. I had taken my medical degrees, but the Lord was good to the folk of Derringerville, and they flourished and were strong. Hence I concluded to betake me down south, and near the Sierra Blanca found an ideal spot for a doctor. There were thousands of typhoid microbes in every square inch of air--in fact, it was where typhoid had its office--but the inhabitants were spry. At first they died rather than call me in, but Elder Bullin, a real smart man he was, convoked the estates one day, and then a deputation waited on me--there was Calvin Snipe, Dacotah d.i.c.k, and the elder himself. They drank the half bottle of whisky I had left, and then put the matter squarely to me. I was to be paid a thumping good salary as doctor to the town. If any one was ill, however, the salary should cease until he was well again or died; the committee was to decide in the latter event if I had done my best, and, if the decision was favourable, arrears would be paid me on the first clean bill of health. I was, however, bound down for five years, and, seeing I was on the hard pan, they offered to pay down an advance. I rose to the situation, papers were signed then and there, and Dacotah d.i.c.k paid me my advance on the nail. Next day the whole place was down with fever, and I went to work--had to take off my coat to it. There was, of course, no pay for me, but I had the advance, and rubbed along on that. By-and-bye the money dwindled away, and I was once more stranded. I applied for more, but was sternly refused. I then suggested resigning, and Calvin Snipe pulled out his six-shooter and asked if I could read the maker's name on it for him. Wal, things were looking very blue, so one fine night I----”
”Good gracious! Here is Mr. Hawkshawe, and half a dozen men with him.
I wonder what the matter can be? He is coming straight up to us.” And, sure enough, there was Hawkshawe riding into the gate with a tail of policemen behind him. He halted the men with a quick order, and, dismounting, walked rapidly across the lawn toward the tea drinkers, accompanied by one who appeared from his dress to be a subaltern police officer. The man was travel-stained and bespattered with mud, and he held one arm tightly to his side as he leaned heavily on a long curved sword as if to support himself.
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